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I tasted the fever of Your existence Seems like cold grain to my mouth I stand aside, I stay away Transmuting my quicksilver blood
KIA that I may see ZOS that I may touch Insipid are the describing words The self needs no vulgar praise
This worship has no supplications My rite is to live and do Things naked, pure, of honest lust The throbbing vortex feeds on it all
Sleep is the best of possible prayers The winged eyes are blessed to see Downtrodden deception of every torment Transpierced hymnes my lust adores
Many images yet one raw flesh Animal steps I love to tread An ideal point where Time is Space Memory giant sores this journey must heal
Lady of Mourning and her monsters Lay down the scythes for here I come Joyful and praipic my baby soul A new-born one, ten million years old
(przeczytano 1 330 razy)
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